The traveler arrived in the town of Fernwick one rainy afternoon. Like many other places, this was just another stop on their journey. Another place to rest, resupply, and move on.
So when, on their second day, they first heard the whispers in the market square, they paid them little mind.
But when a crowd began to gather around the town notice board, and the whispers grew into excited voices, the traveler curiously approached the crowd for a closer look and saw, nestled in the middle of the countless advertisements for harvest fairs, job listings, lost pets, and bake sales was a pinned piece of torn paper, its edges faintly glowing, and on it a single symbol was scribed.
No signature.
No explanation.
No location.
Yet still the townspeople were positively buzzing with excitement as whispers about the arrival of the midnight apothecary spread.
The traveler frowned.
"What’s a Midnight Apothecary?" they asked aloud. But before anyone could answer, a child came racing across the square, breathless with excitement.
"The lantern!" he shouted. "I saw the lantern!"
The crowd stirred immediately.
"Where?"
"Are you certain?"
"Out by the ruins of the Old Mill!" the child replied. "Right where the river bends!"
Excited chatter spread through the square as several people immediately turned and set off in the direction the child had come from, hoping to catch sight of the lantern for themselves. The traveler looked around in confusion. A lantern and a cryptic notice hardly seemed cause for celebration.
A woman from the nearby flower shop caught their expression and laughed.
"You’re not from around here." It was a statement and not a question.
"No, I’m not. I’m just passing through," the traveler admitted. "What’s the Midnight Apothecary?" they asked again.
The woman smiled. “It’s exactly what the name states, an apothecary that appears at midnight." Her tone was teasing, as she rolled a sheet of paper around a bouquet, but then she nodded toward the notice board to explain further.
"Every so often that notice appears on the board. Then a lit lantern is found somewhere near town where no lantern stood before."
"Two nights later, the Apothecary arrives. Never in the same place twice.” She tied a ribbon around a bouquet, her fingers working deftly. “Sometimes near the river. Once near the cemetery gate. One time it appeared in the orchard fields."
"And what’s so special about it?"
"That," she said with a wink, “is something you’ll have to see for yourself.”
The traveler blinked. "What happens when it arrives?"
At this, her smile softened. "People leave with the thing they need most."
The traveler wasn't entirely sure what that meant but nodded anyway.
And so, over the next two days they found themselves hearing about little else. The blacksmith spoke of it. The baker spoke of it. Children whispered about it while chasing one another through the square.
“One time my grandmother traded a winter peach for some ointment that took away her pain.”
“My uncle once offered a half dozen eggs for a spell for his crops.”
“My Ma still has the charm her great great grandmother got!”
********
By the time midnight drew near two days later, curiosity had gotten the better of them and the traveler joined the throng of townspeople as they gathered in the streets before the midnight hour and made their way towards the ruins of the old mill.
The lantern was easy to find.
It hung mounted on one of the few standing walls left in the ruins. Its warm golden light shimmered across the grass and stones, swaying gently in the night air.
The townspeople gathered at the edges of its light, their excited whispers and chatter made the anticipation palpable. Yet still, the traveler remained skeptical. A lantern was a lantern. Whatever was to come, surely it could not justify all this excitement.
The minutes passed and the crowd continued to gather. Then, as the clock struck midnight, the murmuring died down and everyone turned their attention to the lantern.
At first the traveler thought it was a trick of the lantern’s light.
There was a distortion in the air, like a mirage or heat rising from a distant road. And then a small wooden stall shimmered into existence around the lantern.
The stall itself looked almost unimpressive at first glance: A narrow counter emerged where moments before there had been only empty grass, dark wood worn smooth with age, around it small hanging charms turning gently in the breeze and rows of tiny glass bottles lined the shallow shelves illuminated by lanternlight. And behind the counter stood the keeper. Draped in a dark cloak they stood silently, their face shadowed beneath the hood.
A ripple of delight passed through the crowd. No one seemed afraid, instead they were excited and eager and without much ado, everyone shifted to form a neat line to wait their turn. The traveler had seen it for themselves but still didn’t quite understand or believe it.
One by one, people stepped forward. But not a word was exchanged between the patrons and the keeper. No requests were made. No orders were placed.
The Keeper simply nodded, produced items from beneath the counter, made concoctions using the bottles on the shelves or disappeared into the shadowed corner of the stall where the lantern light didn’t reach. And when they were done, the order would be placed on the counter: A small bundle of herbs tied in twine. A dark glass vial. A wax-sealed remedy. A handcrafted charm folded carefully into paper.
Coins were offered in payment, so too were pressed flowers, handwritten recipes, old trinkets, and curious keepsakes. No questions asked, no haggling, no banter, nothing more than a silent exchange.
Perplexed but fascinated, the traveler looked to the person next to him, “How does the clerk know what to give to who? No one is saying anything...”
The man shrugged. “They just know.”
"Who exactly are they?" the traveler asked, motioning to the cloaked figure behind the counter. "And what happens if the they don't want what people have to offer?”
The man glanced at the stall. “We've never known who they are, and as for what is given in payment you give what you can and what your heart tells you is right and fair, that's all there is to it.”
The traveler nodded though they didn’t really understand and before they had time to mull it over, the line moved onwards and soon it was their turn.
Stepping up to the counter the Keeper regarded them for a long moment with eyes unseen. Then, with a small nod, they turned and disappeared through what the traveler could now see was a small doorway at the back of the stall that had been hidden in shadows.
Unable to resist, the traveler leaned forward curiously and peeked through the opening.
Their breath caught.
The back room of the stall shouldn’t have even been there for it was just a wall before the stall appeared and the traveler knew there was no building on the other side of it.
Despite that, as he peered in, rows of lanternlight stretched into impossible distances. Towering shelves disappeared into darkness overhead. A wall of wooden medicine drawers lined corridors. Glass bottles glimmered in every direction. Bundles of herbs sat heaped on tables. It was an impossible sight.
Then the Keeper returned and placed a small parcel upon the counter.
The traveler stared at it, their fingers tentatively reaching out to touch the twine ties of the brown paper parcel. Somehow, inexplicably, it felt right. As though it had been chosen with a knowledge they themselves did not possess.
The Keeper waited.
Only then did the traveler realize payment was expected and a flush of embarrassment rose in their cheeks. They had brought nothing for the exchange. Everyone else had arrived prepared, but the traveler had come only to satisfy their curiosity with no intention of actually buying anything.
Awkwardly, they searched their pockets.
A few coins.
A length of string.
A broken button.
Then their fingers touched the old brass pocket watch.
It hadn't worked in years.
Truthfully, the traveler had no real reason for holding onto it. At some point it had simply become one of those objects that followed them from coat to coat, town to town, journey to journey, but there was no real meaning or sentimentality to the object.
Without overthinking it, they placed it upon the counter.
The Keeper looked down at the watch and nodded. The payment had been accepted and the traveler took their parcel and stepped aside as the next patron stepped up to the counter.
With nowhere else to go, the traveler joined in the flow of people heading back to the town. Lively and excited conversations drifted through the night air. People spoke of what they had received, of remedies they hoped would help, of charms they planned to keep close.
The traveler tucked the parcel beneath one arm and cast a glance back toward the river. Surprisingly, the Apothecary was still there. Lanterns glowed warmly in the darkness. The line of patrons still stretched before the stall. The Keeper doing their work as though they had all the time in the world. For some reason the traveler had expected to see it had vanished entirely.
"You still don't quite believe it, do you?" a voice asked.
The traveler turned to find an older townsman walking beside them with a bemused smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.
"I'm not sure what I believe," the traveler admitted.
The man chuckled. "Fair enough."
For a moment they walked in silence. Then the man nodded toward the parcel beneath the traveler's arm. "What did you get?"
The traveler looked down at it. "I don't know. I haven't opened it yet." Yet despite that wafts of what was tucked into the parcel drifted out, notes of sage, lavender, citrus, sandalwood. It honestly smelled divine and the traveler found himself eager to return to the inn so they could unwrap their parcel.
The man smiled. "Whatever it is, you can be sure it's exactly what you need."
The traveler considered this. Then looked back toward the apothecary once more. "How long does it stay?"
"Usually until the witching hour."
"And then?"
"Gone, just like it appeared."
The traveler nodded slowly. "When will it return?"
The old man shrugged. "Whenever it needs to, I suppose."
"You don't know?"
"No one does. Some claim it has to do with the moon cycles, others think it comes around when people most need it, some think it comes when it needs us and our exchanges."
They continued walking.
After a moment, the traveler asked, "Does it only come here? Does it show up in other places, other towns?"
"Who knows." The old man laughed, “You’re the traveler. You tell me.”
But the traveler had no answer so they continued to walk in silence down the curved road that led through the town.
At the gate the old man tipped his cap and turned toward his home, while the traveler continued on towards the inn.
Before stepping inside, they cast one final look in the direction of the mysterious apothecary but only saw a view of the dark horizon beyond the rooftops.
Some people, they had been told, only saw the Midnight Apothecary once in their lifetime. Some twice. Some never at all. And yet the thought lingered.
Perhaps somewhere down the road, in another town beneath another starry sky, a familiar notice might appear upon a board. Perhaps another lantern might be found burning where none had burned before.
The traveler smiled, resolving to ask about the Midnight Apothecary at the next stop on their journey, and the ones after that. Maybe they would meet it and its mysterious keeper again. Maybe they could learn more and unravel the mystery of it.
But tonight, they had a mystery of their own waiting beneath their arm. Eager to discover what the Keeper had chosen for them, what the thing they most needed was, the traveler stepped inside and closed the door behind them.
The Midnight Apothecary has appeared! Visit it before it vanishes.
